It's A Crime (32 page)

She watched
in horror as he slowly advanced toward her, his steps unsteady, his swiped blood resembling war paint. She turned toward the door.

If I can just get there, scream, get out, run
—anything.

She
looked at him; he watched her like a cat playing with a mouse, toying with her. Time was not on her side. She took in a deep breath then made a run for the door. When she reached it, her heart was beating so hard she thought it would explode. She began fumbling with the lock, twisting the knob, banging on the door.

Wh
y won’t this open?

She
quickly turned around with her back against the door. He stood ten feet behind her, a sardonic smile playing on his evil face.

Alison was f
ully panicked now and began to pound on the door using all her might, screaming for help. Her voice lacked volume and was scratchy. She lifted the chain, tugging it up, then releasing it. It fell against the door, swinging in tempo with the music. Alison grabbed the knob again, jiggling, pulling at it.

Why
won’t it turn?

She looked behind her and saw him walking slowly
toward her, her razor in one hand, smiling broadly, holding up a shiny key in the other. Her heart sank into her chest. She was trapped. The fucking loon locked the door with a key from the
inside
.

Out of
the corner of her eye, she caught the gleam of the overhead light shining off the gleaming metal of the razor. Soon after she felt the pinch as the blade cut across her skin, slicing through her throat, her arteries.

Alison
lifted both her hands to her neck pushing in, trying to hold the gaping wound closed. Hot liquid spurted unevenly from the pulsating cut. Light-headed, Alison looked up in horror, seeing him putting the blade into his mouth, his tongue licking her blood. His eyes rolled back into his head, savoring the taste.

As t
he music pumping loudly, her heartbeat slowed…she was losing consciousness as she heard fading voices in the hall. There was a knocking on the door.

They heard
me. They will help me.

Jonathan pulled the remote out of his pocket
and pushed a button, raising the volume. Led Zeppelin’s
Stairway to Heaven
crawled up the walls, bass and guitar wailing.

How
proper…Fucking loon. Insane fucker.

She slowly
sank to the floor, and the pounding of her blood in her ears slowed. It became quiet, very quiet.

And as we wind on down the road
…there is a story we are told…

A large puddle of blood
formed around her head. Jonathan looked at her and watched until the spurts through her delicate fingers slowed and eventually stopped. He walked over to the pretty blonde girl with the wrong colored eyes and kicked her lifeless body. The volume of the music grew louder, the drum solo driving him on. Jonathan’s erection grew. The more he kicked the harder he got.
Fucking steel.
He grabbed his steel and releasing it from his pants, he grabbed himself and painfully jerked until it spurted, pulsing like the blood from
her
neck. He came watching her motionless body.

You fucking brainless twat
.

He smiled,
happy. He wanted to go dancing now.

Chapter 32

It was snowing in Denver. Cole stared unfocused, looking out the wall of glass behind his desk.

“Mr. Grayson
?” Jenna’s voice softly came over the speakerphone. “I have a Mr. Roberts on the phone for you. He said it’s very important.”

Cole turned his chair around.
“Thank you.” He pushed the button on the speakerphone.

“Grayson.”
His tone was clipped.

“Mr. Grayson, Gil Roberts.”

“Roberts, what do you have?”

“I followed through on that lead you provided
. Dr. Delaney was very helpful, he remembered a patient at Girard round about the time you said you were there.  A Joseph Kuzlow.  Got himself into a little trouble in the neighborhood.  So after some poking around, I was able to get my hands on some of Joseph Kuzlow’s  records.” Gil paused.

“Go on.”

“Well, it appears that Kuzlow was a difficult patient for the doctor. He informed me Kuzlow had some difficulty adjusting to living in the boys’ home. Had difficult upbringing, several foster homes and the like. He was a ‘bitter, malevolent young man,’ to quote the doctor. I found out after a few interviews I had with personnel at Girard and a few neighbors in the surrounding area, Kuzlow was thought to have killed neighboring residents’ pets. Small animals, mostly cats and dogs, were all found with their throats cut, and this is the interesting part, he also set their mutilated bodies on fire.

“
I went to the local police and viewed the complaints made by the surrounding neighbors. Found there were also a couple of eyewitness accounts, and tip line calls made to the police whereby he was seen walking away from area the fires were started. It was never proven, there was no hard evidence; however, the investigation conducted by the local police kept on coming back to Kuzlow. Unfortunately, the cops who led the investigation either died or retired. One retiree, the lead on the case, is now living in Florida. I’m going to speak with the captain of the Manayunk Police. Maybe he’ll remember something that could help us, point me in the right direction.”

Coles
’ interest instantly aroused.

“Do th
ey know the whereabouts of Kuzlow now?”

“No
, sir, they don’t. It’s believed he left the boys home on bad terms when he was eighteen. Somewhat of a troublemaker. But he didn’t have a clue to his whereabouts today.”

“What
is your next move, Roberts?”

“I have a few
people in the area I still need to speak to, maybe I could find someone who’ll remember seeing something regarding the incidents and this Kuzlow, but my belief is we have a viable suspect in the arson/murders committed on your family.”

“
Keep me updated, Roberts.” Cole paused. “Of all leads.”

“Yes
, sir, I will.” He hung up.

Cole push
ed the button ending the call; finally more to go on. The familiar anger rushed through him and he tensed. This was the first real lead he had since starting his investigation, and it took three investigators and a lot of money to get where he was now.

The memory of his little brother’s
lifeless body being carried in the arms of a fireman to the back of the ambulance washed over him like a tidal wave. He inhaled deeply several times, the tension ebbing with each breath. He could not,
would not
, let it control
him
.

T
he completion of his plan was near; he could sense it. He would kill the son-of-a-bitch. He planned it for the past seventeen years—he had to do it, needing peace.

He
thought of Grace. With the serial murderer in New York City killing blonde women, his worry for her safety was his top priority, seconded only by finding the arsonist who’d murdered his family. After reading the news accounts from New York showing the five pictures of the women murdered with a razor sharp knife, all tall blondes, all blue eyed, he immediately secured his team in place, having her under surveillance and guarded 24/7. Without her knowledge. She would fight him, telling him he had no right, no place watching her. But he didn’t care what she might say. At all cost, he would make sure she was not the killer’s next victim.

This
would be easier after he moved to New York, when he wouldn’t have to rely on reports from his security team, however capable and exceptionally good at their job they were. Cole would feel better watching after her himself.

Grace, in his arms,
the feel of her warm body beneath his, him inside her, her lips on his, her calling his name in passion, her warm smile and a body made for fucking. He thought of her, and those images pushed his anger down, back into that lonely place in his heart, at the same time making his cock hard.

She
was the first person who was able to make him feel anything. When he was with her, he was relaxed and calm. She had a way of making him forget, if only for a little while, the evil consuming his past.

With Grace it was possible for him to have a future.
She made him feel whole, as whole as was possible for his broken soul. It was a relief of sorts to feel peace inside, however brief. But now, he needed to keep this malevolence, this part of him, away from her. He avowed he would not let any harm or trouble come to her because of anything he had done and for this reason he must distance himself from her. However ironic, being with him was the worst thing for her right now. He needed to rid himself of his demons.

His plan to kill this malignancy who
’d murdered his family could only hurt Grace, and he would not have her or her family name involved. It was his intention only he would suffer, if caught. Of course if his plan succeeded, no one would be the wiser, and he would feel clean enough to make a new start.

Until then
he had to be content to view her on security tapes taken by his team. Grace would say he was voyeuristic, taking advantage of her situation, but her safety was his primary goal. There were always the paparazzi pictures, the pictures he searched the internet for daily and found. Never in his life did he think he would be thankful for the paparazzi. Irony followed his every move.

Gil entered the Manayunk Police station and walked up to the officer at the desk.

“I have an appointment with Captain Maloney.”

“And you are?” the officer asked.

“Gil Roberts, he’s expecting me.
”

Without a word
, the officer turned and walked through the door in the back returning after several minutes.

“You can go back, the third office on the left.”
He reached down and pushed a button that buzzed open the door.

Gil stepped inside the open office and the
captain looked up. Standing, he reached his hand out, shaking Gil’s.

After the cursory
greeting, the captain inquired as to the reason for Gil’s visit.

Gil
informed the captain he was investigating an arson/murder, which occurred during same timeframe his department had several issues with a young man named Joseph Kuzlow. Gil asked if the captain had any information on Kuzlow. The captain remembered the name and provided Gil with the records his department had on Kuzlow, but explained to Gil if he wanted credible information on Kuzlow he would do better to contact Detective Montelano.

Gil asked for the contact information for the retired
detective, who now resided in Florida.

“Mind stepping o
ut, I need to make a phone call,”  The captain asked.

Gil stepped out
, hearing the captain on the phone.

Captain Maloney called Detective Montelano
, asking permission to give the investigator his phone number. Gil watched as Maloney scribbled on a note pad and hung up the phone. Maloney looked up and gestured Gil back inside.

Gil sat
. The captain handed him the retired detective’s phone number.

“
That’s Montelano’s cell, said to call him after 6:30. He and the wife are heading out, early bird special.” Captain Maloney laughed, shaking his head.

Gil thanked him for his ass
istance and after shaking hands turned to leave.

“Good luck with that
, Roberts. I remember that fire, whole family died...except for the one kid. Shame.”

From his room in the Sofitel in Philadelphia, Detective Gil Roberts looked
down at his watch. 6:45. Opening his cell, he called the retired cop in Florida.